White Wine
by theresabodycount
Summary: Actually a Rob and Kristen story that stemmed from a dream I had last night and I just had to get it out of my head. After breaking up and not seeing each other for a year, Kristen finds Rob drunk in a grocery store and takes him home with her.


**This stemmed from a dream I had last night. I decided to turn it into a story. Please leave feed back and let me know what you think!**

Sweatpants? Check. Sunglasses? Check. Hair pulled back into a messy bun? Check. She tried not to call attention to herself as she walked down the aisles of Ralph's, shopping basket in hand. It was 11pm but the florescent lights shone down like the sun on a bright California day. Easily distracted she tried to remember what she had come for. A loaf of bread, sudoko and some hair ties, as well as some time out of her apartment.

She scanned the various types of bread, no longer having to buy the cheapest. But what was the difference, isn't all bread basically the same? She tossed a random loaf into her basket and carried on down the aisle. She liked to be alone. Grocery shopping alone. Movie's alone. Dinner alone. Although, she always had her cellphone and with technology alone is never really alone.

She rolled her eyes at the hair-ties with Hannah Montana's face on the package and grabbed the plain black pack right next to them. Even through she tried to suppress it, memories of today's meeting with the studio head creeped into her head. The man in the suit and the way he looked at her as she tried her best to articulate, running her hand through her hair nervously. She didn't like that side of the movies. She liked acting. Let the business men do the business and I'll do the acting. She had no idea how the meeting had gone; if she had made a good impression. It seemed that the times when she thought she did a good job is when it went the worst and vice versa.

Sudoko, Sudoko, Sudoko. She rounded the corner to the magazine aisle. Starting closest to her she scanned the covers of the magazines, only seeing her face once or twice on tigerbeat and the like with "What is Kristen up to?" underneath. She reached the end of the book shelf. There was a gap and then a new one began. Protruding from this gap were two legs. Man's legs by the look of them. Covered in jeans. She'd seen weirder things but she wanted to see what type of person was just sitting in between two bookshelves on the floor of a Ralph's at 11pm. Her flip flops clicked on the floor as she walked to the next bookshelf. Passing the gap she planned to look quickly at the man on the floor but she ended up staring, "Rob?" She pushed her sunglasses from in front of her eyes, up into her hair.

He didn't respond. He too had sunglasses on and she couldn't see his eyes. His head was resting on one of the bookshelves. She took in his appearance. Her heart ached. He wore his usual attire; flannel shirt, dark straight legged jeans, doc martins. In one hand he held an almost empty bottle of white wine in the other a magazine that had a small picture of him on the cover, underneath was surely a headline that said something unfavorable about his latest movie.

She sighed and looked around. There was no one in sight. She didn't know what to do. She hadn't seen him or talked to him in at least a year. What a great reunion. Her quest for sudoko rendered unimportant; she put down her shopping basket. She moved herself in between the bookshelves, one leg on either side of his. She brought herself down to his level and pulled off his sunglasses. Eyes closed, he didn't respond. She hated seeing him like this. She ran her hand through is short hair. She hated his hair cut. She ran her hand down to his cheek, to the stubble and shook his face a bit.

"Hey, Rob. Come on."

She became a little more aggressive with her movements and tapped his cheek roughly with her finger tips.

His eyes fluttered open, his vision clearly, he furrowed his eyebrows looking at her, who looking at him, hovering over his legs. Where was he? What was she doing here?

"Wha...?"

She grabbed the wine bottle and magazine out of his hands and stood up. She put them aside and turned her attention back to this pathetic little boy. She slipped his sunglasses back on his face. She grabbed both his hands, "Get up, let's go." It was a struggle as she helped to un-wedge him from between the shelves. He got to his feet and she held him around the waist. The two made their way to the front of the store, her shopping basket forgotten. Neither of them said a word, she was sure that he was too drunk to realize what was going on. Maybe it would be the same silence if he weren't drunk, though.

Maybe alone she had been able to get away with acting like a normal person but people starred as the two walked through the automatic doors out of the store into the warm night. She wondered how many magazines and gossip sights would have a blurb about the two rekindling their romance by tomorrow morning.

She didn't want to do this. She didn't want this burden and not just the literal burden of his drunk body bumping into hers as she directed him towards her car. but the figurative as well - all of the emotions that were sure to resurface from seeing him again.

She leaned over him, buckling him up. She stood up and he was staring at her face. Could he even see her face through the dark and his sunglasses? No light from street lamps illuminated the space around them.

She climbed in the drivers seat and put the key in the ignition.

His face was pressed up against the glass as they pulled up in front of his apartment building. She killed the engine. She opened the door.

"I don't live here," he mumbled.

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't live here anymore. Chile."

Of course. He had given up his apartment when he went to film that stupid movie in South America. She didn't care to take him to his hotel where there were sure to be people in the lobby who would love to take out their cellphones and take pictures of the two as they made their way to Rob's room.

She turned on the radio and rolled down her window. The night was nice and warm and she loved the way Hollywood looked at night.

They pulled up in front of her apartment building this time and the same words spilled from his lips, "I don't live here."

She ignored him and went around to open his door, "I live here."

With little coordination and Kristen's help, he got out of the car.

She helped him up the front steps, through the lobby and to the elevator. Luckily there was no one there to disturb them and they waited alone in silence as the elevator descended to the first floor. Rob made his way in first leaning against the rear wall, face towards the ceiling, looking a bit sick. Kristen followed and stood in the middle of the car as the doors shut behind her. She pushed the button for her floor. She looked him over.

"If you throw up on me..."

"I'm not gonna throw up on you," he snapped.

The elevator doors opened and Kristen stepped out shaking her head. Behind her Rob pushed off the wall, following her, vomit down the front of his shirt. He followed her down the hall to her apartment, waiting patiently behind her as she unlocked the door.

"You smell disgusting."

"Well, it is vomit."

She opened the door and he followed her inside. He began to button his shirt, she could hear the vomit dripping onto her floor.

"Can you wait til you're in the bathroom? Please?"

He stopped removing his shirt and walked past her to the bathroom. She removed the glasses from the top of her head and tossed them on the table. She slid open the sliding glass door to get some air circulation. Leaning against the doorframe she pulled her cellphone from her pocket to check the time. 12:00 AM on a Saturday and she was taking care of her ex-boyfriend, not ideal.

She made her way to the bathroom and watched him. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub he had his shirt off, boxers on, pants half way off, shoes on. Kneeling down by his feet she decided to help him out. She unlaced his Doc's and pulled them off one at a time before pulling off his socks and his pants the rest of the way.

She stood up and turned on the water, waiting for it to heat up before pulling the lever and redirecting the water out of the shower head. He closed his eyes. Out of her peripheral vision she saw him lose his balance and start to fall backwards. She lunged and grabbed at his shoulders, unable to get a good grip, instead of pulling him back up she merely softened his fall into the tub. The water rained over him as he lay there with his head at the foot of the tub. He kept his eyes closed. He opened his mouth and let it fill with water, he swished it around and then spit it out.

She grabbed him a towel and set it on the toilet seat. She closed the shower curtain around him. She left the bathroom, "Don't drown," she told him before closing the door behind her.


End file.
